“And you’ve been in Abbenay for two years, and didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? It was all on my side, in my head, you didn’t even know my name. One person can’t make a bond, after all!”

“And you were afraid that if you came to me I might not want the bond.”

“Not afraid. I knew you were a person who… wouldn’t be forced… Well, yes, I was afraid. I was afraid of you. Not of making a mistake. I knew it wasn’t a mistake. But you were—yourself. You aren’t like most people, you know. I was afraid of you because I knew you were my equal!” Her tone as she ended was fierce, but in a moment she said very gently, with kindness, “It doesn’t really matter, you know, Shevek.”

It was the first time he had heard her say his name. He turned to her and said stammering, almost choking, “Doesn’t matter? First you show me—you show me what matters, what really matters, what I’ve needed all my life—and then you say it doesn’t matter!”

They were face to face now, but they had not touched.

“Is it what you need, then?”

“Yes. The bond. The chance.”

“Now—for life?”

“Now and for life.”

Life, said the stream of quick water down on the rocks in the cold dark.

• • •

When Shevek and Takver came down from the mountains, they moved into a double room. None was free in the blocks near the Institute, but Takver knew of one not far away in an old domicile in the north end of town. In order to get the room they went to the block housing manager—Abbenay was divided into about two hundred local administrative regions, called blocks—a lens grinder who worked at home and kept her three young children at home with her. She therefore kept the housing files in a shelf on top of a closet so the children wouldn’t get at them. She checked that the room was registered as vacant; Shevek and Takver registered it as occupied by signing their names.

The move was not complicated, either. Shevek brought a box of papers, his winter boots, and the orange blanket. Takver had to make three trips. One was to the district clothing depository to get them both a new suit, an act which she felt obscurely but strongly was essential to beginning their partnership. Then she went to her old dormitory, once for her clothes and papers, and again, with Shevek, to bring a number of curious objects: complex concentric shapes made of wire, which moved and changed slowly and inwardly when suspended from the ceiling. She had made these with scrap wire and tools from the craft-supply depot, and called them Occupations of Uninhabited Space. One of the room’s two chairs was decrepit, so they took it by a repair shop, where they picked up a sound one. They were then furnished. The new room had a high ceiling, which made it airy and gave plenty of space for the Occupations. The domicile was built on one of Abbenay’s low hills, and the room had a corner window that caught the afternoon sunlight and gave a view of the city, the streets and squares, the roofs, the green of parks, the plains beyond.